Africa – tribal war,
your herald precursor – inhuman,
demise begun – self-destruction,
your hands soaked in blood forever,
you killed all young-and pregnant ones,
you killed the sick – enslaved only the strong,
the seeds were sown – now truth disowned,
the roots of slavery are home grown
your roots

Chorus:
Fuck your bloody roots – roots

The tale goes on – the sand tribes come,
the routes between you become well trodden,
you trade livestock – your human flock,
you scream of rights, but how much you’ve forgotten
for centuries – you lived like this,
you killed your own, and sold your soul brothers,
long before – whites reached your shores,
and claimed the land of your fathers – your roots

Chorus:

Bridge:
Yeah, of all the fucking liberties – no fat fingers
pointing to your own tyranny,
your culture shines through – like a head on a stick,
Africa? Tribal wars? Thirteen raging as I speak!
So what about slavery?
No I, sure as hell, wouldn’t let it be done to me
or sell my kind, my blood, my future
and then complain later on in history
you sold – we bought – and what of it?

Contrition – but you showed none,
you pass the buck for what your own begun,
your weak case built – upon white guilt,
but I’m defiant, that it’s not my fault,
how does it feel? – the truth I wield,
your lies exposed and the truth revealed,
you persecute – those who speak truth,
but, far too long – one – sided blame has been sealed!

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